


Gentle Secrets

by Higgystar



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, alludes to sexual abuse, sexual abuse of a minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 20:05:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1441135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgystar/pseuds/Higgystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from the kink meme: Daryl is wary around the men of the group because his father and brother liked to use their fists. He flinches away from the women because even though his mother never laid a hand on him in anger, her touch used to be just as unwelcome. </p>
<p>Warning: This fic contains mentions of and allusions to sexual abuse of a minor. Do not read this if these issues are upsetting to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Daryl knows they can see it. It’s been a problem all his life, but no matter how hard he tries he just knows that they can all see. Ever since he was little he learnt to hide himself away and try not to draw attention to himself. Scars may fade over time but they don’t disappear, and when they were as deep and obvious as his the story was written, literally, all over his back. It’s why he never allowed anyone to get close, not even Merle knew his secrets and he liked to keep it that way. It probably helped that Merle didn’t give a shit.

It had been easier before, when he was simply a dumb redneck that lived in the mountains and everyone could ignore without causing an issue. He was a nobody on purpose, someone who could cope with the world at a distance and be more comfortable for it. Things had been so much easier to hide when no one had been looking were now more difficult than ever to keep covered. It became something that was always niggling at the back of his mind and when he has to give in and allow them a small part of his story, it’s more nerve wracking than taking on walkers whilst injured.

Being part of a group was a new experience, and though he hadn’t wanted it at first he’d wanted to survive so he’d stuck through it. Now here he was, settling in, being a part of it and even interacting without any prompting. Really Daryl knew he had grown a lot since Merle had gone, and a small part of him is actually proud of his progress. But there are still a lot of things he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get past.

Rick and Hershel are kind after stitching him up, they don’t ask after the first time and though he can see the understanding in Rick’s eyes he knows that knowledge hasn’t been spread around the rest of the group. It’s a small relief that Rick understands he doesn’t want this spoken of, but still he can tell they all know. It’s obvious in their eyes when they look at him that they know, they all know, or at least have an idea of what he’s been through.

He can always see the understanding in Rick’s eyes when he flinches at raised voices. Glenn is always careful to make sure he doesn’t accidentally touch without permission since he’s such a friendly guy. T-Dog has a way of cracking jokes and distracting him when he wakes up from a nightmare and doesn’t want to sleep anymore. Carl may not know exactly what his issues are, but Daryl can see the kid knows he acts different from the others, but he always treats him just as he does the other adults. Hershel is a mix of calm and gentle, sometimes it frustrates him but more often than not he finds the older man’s soothing voice helping him through the more stressful moments.

Everyone in the group knows, they see him flinch at conflict and step back whenever there’s violence that isn’t against walkers. They all know he’s suffered from abuse and he thinks it’s almost common but unspoken knowledge that his father and Merle were the cause. They know other men make him uneasy and no one ever mentions when he has to take a step back to feel comfortable. Still no one spoke about it, they just understood it and used the knowledge to make him feel more at ease.

It’s not ideal, he’d rather they knew nothing at all, but he can cope with them knowing he’s got hidden scars and can take a punch so long as they don’t talk to him about it. The secrets aren’t exactly secrets, but they’re still hidden and that’s enough to get him through the day. The group doesn’t know everything, but they know enough, more than enough and he doesn’t ever wish to tell them anymore than they already know.

So when they secure the cramped storage container for the night and everyone settles down for some sleep, the men all give him his space so he doesn’t feel crowded. Really he should be grateful for that fact and he is, he really is, but the only problem is that it causes the women to fill in the space between them.

Most men would love that fact, and enjoy having the closeness through the cold winter months. Thing is Daryl really wasn’t too comfortable with that option either so he found himself pressed more and more against the wall and wrapping his arms around his middle to stave off the chill.

They know he’s been hit, they know he’s been hated and they assume it’s why he flinches at contact. Mostly they’re right, except when it comes to the women he flinches for an entirely different reason.

Swallowing back the memories he tries to bury himself further into his clothing, wanting to ignore the unease in his stomach when he can feel Lori shift next to him. He hopes she’ll just ignore him and go back to sleep, but of course she doesn’t and he soon opens his eyes to find her watching him.

“Hey.” She whispers, shifting a little closer and either ignoring or not noticing that he tries to scoot back when she does. Keeping her voice low she smiles to him, noting his position and when she speaks again it’s in the tone of voice she uses for Carl. “If you’re cold you can move a little closer, it’s not a problem.”

“’m fine.” He mutters, tugging up the collar of his jacket to try and get some more cover.

“Here.” She offers him one of her blankets, holding it out to him with her breath misting in the air.

“Said I’m fine.”

“Daryl you’re shivering. I’m fine with one blanket I don’t need two.”

“But the baby.”

“The baby is giving me hot flashes every night. If I keep this extra blanket it’s just going to end up kicked off when I heat up again. It’s fine Daryl, I went through this when I was pregnant with Carl, I know you need this more than me right now.”

“I’ll be fine without it.”

Lori gives a frustrated sigh, shifting forward on her knees with the blanket and Daryl feels a spike of fear go through him when she comes closer. He hopes he hasn’t set her off on a mood swing. Swallowing back the want to flinch he freezes in place when she covers him with the spare blanket, not wanting to cause a scene or have her worry. “Daryl Dixon you need to stop trying to be Mr tough guy all the time.” She tuts and when her warm fingers brush against his neck as she tucks the edges of the blankets around him, he feels the shivers turn to trembling. “There now get some rest.”

He feels sick to his stomach. The fear has grown inside of him and since he has no way of letting it out, it hurts and he tries to hide it away and ends up with a bile taste in throat for it. Giving her a shaky nod he turns away to face the wall, burying himself further in the blanket and trying to forget the warmth of her fingers over his skin. He’d rather freeze to death than have to feel that again.

Squeezing his eyes shut tightly Daryl can hear Lori move back to her space to sleep and God he hopes she’s not going to try and help him anymore. He knows she’s only trying to help, doing what she can and what she’s used to as a mother, but oh God he feels sick. This isn’t going to work, he can’t sleep now but he doesn’t want to move in case she tries to help again. Trying to sleep brings up the worry of possible nightmares and the thought of that makes him sit up and press against the wall to try and calm his breathing.

His hands are shaking. As much as he doesn’t want them to the memories are bubbling up inside of him, so many things that he’s tried to bury away keep resurfacing and making his breathing stutter and stumble. He can’t be like this, not whilst with the group. They knew too much already and seeing him like this without any of the men being awake would raise too many questions.

Daryl barely ever has this happen anymore. Sure he reacts to men, but he hasn’t had a panic over any women in a while. It had been so many years since he’d been around any females to give him that feeling of revulsion that it had brought everything rushing back worse than ever. Trying to breathe through his nose he doesn’t want to cause a scene or accidentally wake anyone up, but his stomach just wont stop churning over and over.

When he can’t deny it anymore he gets to his feet, hopping over sleeping bodies as quietly as he could and holding the blanket close as he slid out the door to the cold night air. He barely makes it behind the storage container before he’s throwing up, heaving up everything in his stomach until he’s gagging on the taste of bile. Spitting out the sour taste he stays crouched for a while, gagging and dry heaving the last shudders of illness from his body into the grass below. Breathing through his nose he tries to calm himself down, ashamed of getting so worked up and pathetic over something so small and stupid.

When he’s sure his stomach is done clenching from his panic he slumps to the ground next to the unit, letting his head fall against the cold metal to soothe the flush from his face. He feels pathetic, uneasy and on edge with no hope of managing to sleep for the rest of the night. The blanket helps stave off the chill but nothing can stop painful memories from coursing through his mind.

It’s so stupid. He can deal with violence and pain, shouting and fighting was something he hated but could get through by giving as good as he got. Pain was easy, it flashed through your body and ached afterwards but once it was done it was done and over with. Other touches lingered and though it had been years ago, he can still remember every single little tickle of soft fingertips over his skin.

Shuddering he slams his fist into the ground, wanting the pain, needing the distraction and something he could actually cope with. His knuckles hurt, dirt digging into his skin and staining him, giving him something to wipe at and pick on without having to think. Clearing his throat he hacks up phlegm and spits it across the grass, glad to get rid of any lingering taste in his mouth. Picking at his knuckles he feels the bruises beneath the skin already aching despite not being visible, growing there dark and real.

Standing up he makes his way over to their truck, climbing in the driver’s seat and wrapping his hands around the steering wheel and feeling the leather creak beneath his grip. The blanket smells of the group, mixed with the scents of everyone together and living rough. He should have put his foot down and said no, made Lori keep the damned blanket and stay over her own fucking side. He didn’t ask for her to get in his space, to try and be all soft and gentle, fucking touching him and tucking him in as if he was her son. As if he was a damned child for her to look after, as if he was dependant on anyone else but himself. He didn’t need anyone else, he’d survived so long by himself and as he’d told Rick, he was better on his own.

If he didn’t think they’d all be walker chow in a day without him, he’d leave right now and never look back. Screw them all and fuck that bitch for getting too close. Just because her damned husband hated her cheating ass and her son didn’t want no lying mom to tuck him in, didn’t mean she got to fill that gap with him. He wasn’t some charity case for her to dote on and adopt, just because her hormones were driving her crazy and making her all motherly with no one to help out. It wasn’t fair for her to have done that and now she’d made him lose sleep and his dinner all in one move.

Well if he didn’t catch them anything tomorrow it was all her fault.

Leaning back against the seats he hates seeing the first rays of sunlight begin to filter through the trees. It’s just a signal of how much she’d riled him up, making him be awake at the crack of dawn and feeling on edge. He fucking prays that today will be easy for him, that he won’t have to deal with any shit and can get some rest at some point. It’s a stupid thing to wish for, there is no easy days anymore, he should just suck it up and move on.

Resting his forehead against the steering wheel he breathes evenly, wiping at his mouth before closing his eyes, moving his arms to shelter his face from the sunlight coming through the trees. Rick would be up soon, so if he sat here for a moment and took a breather, no one would be mad at him for it.

Pain was easy to cope with, gentle touches hurt even more.

Daryl isn’t sure if it would have been better if she’d been more vicious to him like his father had been. If she’d left bruises and scratches on his skin and given him something that made it all real, something tangible he could see and fix afterwards. Sometimes he prayed for his father to come home first, drunk, loud and angry at his son for breathing. He’d learned how to cope with that, but everything she did was more terrifying than the worry of broken bones and split lips. No matter how much his father had hurt his body, and the words had wounded his self-esteem, his mom had managed to do something much much worse without making a mark on his body.

He’d been so young when it had all started he hadn’t understood what was going on. At some point kisses to the forehead and hugging her youngest son had changed, and though he hadn’t questioned it, something in his gut knew it was different. She’d called it their little secret. That she was just showing him how much she loved him. That he was mommy’s little baby and always would be.

Gentle fingers had brushed over his skin so softly, and her words had smelt of cheap wine and cigarettes when she’d whispered them into his ear. She’d said the nicest things whilst doing the most horrible things to him, making him shiver and close his eyes to pretend everything was okay. He knew secrets were meant to be kept and mommy had always been so kind that even though he didn’t like what she did, it wasn’t mean, so he figured that it couldn’t be bad. Mom’s kisses used to be all over him, her hands moving beneath his pyjamas to stroke over his skin and touch him places he didn’t like.

But it hadn’t hurt, and it was their secret. Mommy loved him and he was her little baby so maybe he just didn’t understand. He’d learnt to be good at keeping secrets.

Now here he was in a group that already knew one of his secrets and if Lori had noticed his reaction they might be able to work out one more. The thought terrifies him, he’s ashamed of them knowing about his visible scars already, they don’t need to know about the invisible ones as well. He just needed to make it clear he hated any and all contact, not just from the men of the group. If he made his boundaries clear then there wouldn’t be a problem and no one would ask any questions he didn’t want to answer. He could fix this before it even became a problem if he nipped it in the bud immediately.

A tapping at the window startles him awake and he finds Rick watching him through the glass with a small frown. Breathing in deeply for a second he braces himself before opening the door of the truck, trying to shrug off any indication that he was anything less than okay. “Mornin’”

“Morning.” Rick nods, leaning on the truck door and Daryl can see the attempt to act casual. “Did you get any sleep at all?”

“Some.” He shrugs, taking off the blanket and folding it up, keeping his eyes off of Rick as he focuses on packing away in the back. “We moving on today?”

“Yeah, there should be some farmhouses up the ways a bit, we could maybe find one to settle in for a week or so if we’re quiet.”

Nodding he doesn’t move from the driver’s seat of the truck, picking at the steering wheel and then his nails. “It seems pretty good here. We could go on ahead and check it out if you want? Leave everyone else to sleep for a bit more if we let Glenn or T-Dog take watch.”

“If you want.” And Daryl can see the question in his eyes, the knowledge of his scars and how being alone with another male may somehow set him off. Rick doesn’t ever say anything out loud, but he knows one secret and right now Daryl knows if he has to sit in a cramped car with Carol and Lori he’ll just be thinking about the bigger one all day. He needs a distraction and if he and Rick can go clear a house of walkers it would help.

“Let’s go.” He needs this. Right now he needs someone around him who isn’t going to ask if he’s all right, someone who wouldn’t treat any wounds with a gentle touch and a look of sympathy. The thought of gentle fingers on him makes his stomach churn again and he clutches the hilt of his knife hard with his bruised hand to take his mind off of it. He needs violence and the burn of muscles from stabbing a walker in the skull, and the after shocks of a fight and adrenaline that runs with it. Right now he needs pain and when Rick nods in agreement and goes to inform Glenn of the plan he feels relief flow through him.

Pain was easy, he could deal with pain and punches easily. Walkers couldn’t be gentle and right now he just needed that to get him back on track. Needed some distraction to keep his mind off his biggest secret and a new place to settle to stop the group from looking at him too hard.

They knew too much all ready. It was just as his mother had always said; it was their little secret. And it would always have to stay that way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter includes a flashback to Daryl's childhood and more details of the abuse. Please be warned that there is graphic descriptions of child abuse in this chapter but it is not shown in a positive light at all.

_Fingers comb through his hair, soft and gentle, pressing it back before it falls forward into his eyes again. He feels uncomfortable but he knows not to say anything, his opinion is not wanted nor heeded at all so there was no point in voicing it. Mom continues stroking over his hair, holding him close and when he presses closer he can smell stale smoke and old wine mixing in with the scent that is just pure mom. The awful thing is as much as it terrifies him, he feels safe in her arms when she’s like this, when she’s soft and kind, treating him like her son and not something else._

_“You mollycoddling that boy again? He’s gonna grow up a pussy if you keep treating him like one!” His father’s voice shouts across the room, making him cling a little tighter and feel safer when her arms pulls him a bit closer. “He’s eleven for God’s sake woman! You wanted a girl you should have had one, stop treating the boy like he’s a baby!” Daryl doesn’t cry anymore, the tears had been beaten out of him long ago so he just pretends not to hear. “He don’t need you tucking him in to bed no more!”_

_He wishes Merle was here. Not that he wanted more bruises or the spiteful words Merle would spit at him for enjoying their mom’s closeness right now, but when Merle was here and sharing their room, it stopped at the door. There was nothing else when Merle was here, she was just a mom when he was here. But he wasn’t. Merle was away, dad was mad and mom was pressing a kiss to his forehead before taking his hand. “Come on baby, let’s get you into bed.”_

_It’s the longest walk of his life, his hand in mom’s, shuffling down the hallway and ignoring dad’s ranting as they head to his room. His stomach feels tight, he knows he’s nervous and hoping, no praying to just be left alone. “Mom, I can do it myself.” He whispers, desperate to stop it, but then she looks at him, her eyes soft, looking hurt and alone, desperate for his affections and smiling sadly. Biting at his lip he hates that look, it makes him feel guilty, and he lowers his head in shame at making her look like that. “Please…”_

_Daryl doesn’t know what he’s begging for, for her to stop looking like that, for her to stop this or for everything to just stop being so confusing and upsetting all the time. Then her hand strokes over his cheek, soft and gentle, and mom has that look on her face that she gets before a beating. He doesn’t want to be the reason for that look, he is not his father and he loves his mom, so ducking his head he holds her hand a little tighter and doesn’t flinch when she kisses his forehead again. “It’s okay baby. Let mommy take care of you.”_

_He doesn’t want to let her take care of him, he knows what that means, he knows that she closes the door and then things get horrible and make him feel sick. Mom takes him to his room, ignoring his dad’s continued yells and closing the door behind them. It’s as if she’s locked him in a cage and he’s on edge immediately, chewing on his thumb and letting his gaze drop to the floor when they’re alone together._

_“My poor baby can’t do this by himself.” She coos and begins helping him out of his clothes, stroking over his skin, pressing kisses to his cheeks and cooing to him the whole time. “My baby boy needs his mommy to look after him doesn’t he?” He doesn’t answer, just letting her slip off his top before running her fingers over his chest, he shivers but daren’t pull away. “Ignore your father, he just doesn’t understand.”_

_Sometimes he wishes he could switch places and instead be taking some punches or even the belt. Mom’s fingers run over his back, mapping over the few bruises there, moving to press her chapped lips over them in a soft kiss. He feels sick and chews on his thumb a bit harder. “But I’m eleven mom, I can do it.” He mumbles, unable to meet her eyes when she tugs at his pants._

_“No you can’t.” Mom doesn’t snap, her voice is always calm and soft when they’re together, but there’s a definite edge of power there. She knows she’s in control, she knows he’ll keep their secret and he’s far too terrified to fight her. “You’re still my little baby and you still need me.” She sounds so certain and he so he doesn’t disagree, trembling silently when she pulls off his pants and helps him step out of them._

_It’s not cold but he’s shivering anyway, chewing on his thumb frantically for something else to focus on when she begins running her fingers over his body. He feels sick, and mom doesn’t notice and doesn’t stop as he tries to ignore that it’s even going on. “Good boy.” She continues cooing, moving him to the bed and kissing at him, holding him close and making his stomach churn. “You’re mommy’s baby, you still love me don’t you? You still need me baby.”_

_Daryl can’t protest, not when the thought of opening his mouth meant he’d have to acknowledge being here. He just closes his eyes and pretends to be somewhere else when she tugs off his underwear, touching him in more places and constantly calling him her good baby boy. He hates being her baby, he doesn’t want to be a baby anymore but she won’t let him go and she won’t let this stop._

_He just wants this to stop._

_But just like all the other times, it doesn’t. Mom climbs into bed with him, pressing against him, stroking over his skin, cooing and coaxing him to be her baby. He doesn’t know how to be her baby, but the way she speaks to him makes it seem as if he’s doing it anyway. She smells of cigarettes and cheap perfume, running her fingers over his body and making him squirm in discomfort against the mattress._

_“It’s okay baby, let mommy take care of you.” Her voice is so soft, he almost feels guilty for not enjoying this for her. But she is happy, smiling and bright, sighing and making noises that make him flush and bite at his thumb even harder. He supposes he should be glad that he’s able to make mom smile when she never does anymore, but honestly it’s not enough to make this feel good. “That’s good isn’t it baby?”_

_He doesn’t want to agree, he wants to shout and scream that he hates this and he feels sick, but then mom looks at him with those eyes, begging him for an answer and he knows he can’t let her down. Not when she only smiles with him. “Yes mommy.” He murmurs, because she’s mommy when they’re like this and he’s her baby and does what she wants._

_So when her fingers dip even lower and stroke at him, making his body do things he doesn’t want it to and making him shiver with a small whimper. “You want to make mommy happy don’t you baby?” Of course he nods, he wants to make her happy and smile and bright, but he wishes this wasn’t the only way to do it. “And this is how to make mommy happy.”_

_Sometimes he tries to make her happy by buying more cigarettes for her, or pouring her more wine or trying to get good grades in school to make her smile. But it’s never enough. All he gets is dead eye stares in return and he can’t stop the bruises from forming on her pale skin when dad has a bad day. But mom likes this and he just has to try his best to give her everything she needs._

_“That’s my good baby.” Then she’s on top of him and he can’t watch, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to shrink n on himself. “Hush now, my sweet baby boy.” She coos again and he bites his lower lip to stop from crying out, hating every little inch of her skin against his. Daryl tries to keeps his hands out of the way, resting them beside his head on the pillow and keeping his fingers to himself._

_It’s not what she wants, and her fingers move to latch onto his, pulling his hands up to rest on her body. He can’t think about what parts he touching, otherwise he’d be sick, so he keeps his eyes shut and pretends to be somewhere else when she manipulates his fingers over her. Mom moves over him, strong and panting in excitement, making horrible noises and stroking over his face, kissing and petting him gently. He bites on his lip hard enough to taste blood._

_His body does what it wants to, not listening to the sickness in his mind and reacting in ways he hates. Mom likes that, he doesn’t. But at least it means it’s almost over. There’s more horrible noises, ones she tries to keep quiet and ones that sound more like a sob coming from his lips. He hates the feeling that washes over him and he hates even more that it feels good, but mommy kisses him harder when his body does that and she smiles before making more noise._

_Daryl keeps his eyes shut until it’s all over and she’s off of him, using her gentle hands to clean him up before moving to get his pyjamas. She’s all flushed and sweaty, smiling brightly and leaning down to kiss him all over. “That’s my good baby.”_

_He feels numb when she dresses him, his body not reacting as she moves it how she wants, tugging his arms through his nightshirt and slowly doing up the buttons. The fabric feels like a shield and he’s grateful for it, knotting his fingers into it and keeping it close, a barrier between him and her. Mom finishes getting him dressed, smoothing his hair back from his head before kissing his temple, lifting the bed sheets for him to climb in. It smells of him and her and what they’ve done and he feels sick._

_“Now then it’s time for you to get some sleep baby.” Mom coos to him, voice still soft, and running her fingers over his cheeks. “Mommy’s very proud of you, you make mommy so happy.” Kissing at his cheeks she flattens the sheets over him, smoothing the creases and running her hands over him once more through the barrier. “Now tell mommy you love her.”_

_“Love you mommy.” He whispers, thumb moving back to his mouth to be chewed on, not able to look at her as she smiles._

_Her fingers run over his cheeks again, rubbing over his hands before smoothing his hair back. “Our little secret right baby?” He nods, swallowing back the unease and letting her remove his thumb gently. “Give mommy a kiss goodnight.” His stomach churns but he does as he’s told, leaning up to press against her lips with his own gently before burying back beneath the sheets. “Night baby.”_

_Daryl doesn’t answer, just stays in bed and squeezes his eyes shut to try and sleep, ignoring the sickness and just pretending to be somewhere, anywhere else. It smells of what they did, of what he has to do to make her happy and he hates it all so much. He wishes he didn’t have to be her baby, he wishes he could make her happy some other way and not have to let her touch him all over._

_He wishes he was a better son for her._


	3. Chapter 3

It’s getting more and more difficult to keep his distance from everyone else. As much as he’d resisted it at first, these people had grown into something more than just a group he was a part of, they were slowly becoming his family and that was both exhilarating and terrifying for him. Daryl was used to a lifetime of being alone, living on the edge of society and being able to distance himself when he needed his space. Now that had been taken away from him and he was with a group of people that needed him as much as he needed them and close quarters were something he was still struggling to get used to.

He hates winter at the best of times, preferring the murderous heat of summertime and the burn of heat across his skin, better hunting, better light to see by and the world felt more alive then. Now it felt as dead as the walkers made it feel, with bare trees providing little to no cover, a frigid breeze that kept them all shivering and despite the clothing they’d found, it never felt like enough.

Right now it almost felt as if the entire world was against them, with freezing rain hammering down on the cars they huddled in a desperate attempt to keep dry, the water outside freezing on contact with the ground and starting to pile up in a layer of snow. They’d parked up besides an overhang of rock, hoping for some kind of protection from the wind and decided to remain in the cars for the night, as cramped as it would be it was safer than trying to travel in this. Besides Daryl had no hope of getting anywhere on the bike safely.

Rick had honked the horn for them to pull over once it had started getting too bad, and though Daryl had to admit it was tough to see and control the bike he’d wanted to carry on, hopeful of finding shelter for the night. Pulling up beside the truck he’d tried to reason with Rick, attempting to get some leeway to search just one more mile, shouting over the wind and rain to try and be heard. The answer had been a firm no, with Rick telling him to stop being such an idiot and get in the damned truck before he froze to death.

The thought of being cramped in there with everyone else had been too much for him to even consider giving in to and even though he didn’t want to fight with Rick or start something, he’d instead shouldered his crossbow and left the bike propped against the truck. It was too dangerous to travel by bike, but he could find something on foot for them all to use for the night. He pretends not to hear Rick yelling for him to wait and come back, using the howling wind as cover.

Rain seems to be pelting him from all angles, some of it even sideways as it freezes on the ground, making him grunt as he slips on a piece of ice whilst heading up a bank of grass. It’s difficult to see, but at least he knows walkers wouldn’t be able to struggle through this weather either, giving him the chance to scout with nothing but the weather to worry about. There was no way he was going to find anything to eat if this kept up, it seemed they really had done something to piss the world off.

Tugging the poncho up higher to protect his lower face, he continues on, using a hand to protect his eyes from the wind as he tried to find some kind of shelter for them all. The cliff edge wasn’t going to be enough, the cars were metal boxes in a snowstorm and there was no way he was going to be cuddling for warmth with anyone anytime soon. Feeling the crunch of something other than snow layered dirt beneath his feet he crouches down to inspect it, dusting away the ice and snow to reveal a gravel road. Well that was something worth following for the moment.

Taking a guess he heads right down the road, checking every so often to see he hadn’t gone astray and finding after a while that the trees seemed to be lining the way for him. Shivering as the wind buffers against him he can see something in the distance, it’s not much but it looks to be sturdy and from what he can see, which is admittedly not a lot, there doesn’t seem to be any walkers around. It was worth a shit but there was no way he was going to be able to check it by himself, not when Rick was going to be pissed with him enough as it was.

So he heads back, walking back away from the wind and finding it blow him back the way he came, making it at least a little easier now he wasn’t struggling against it. The rain continues to soak him through but by now it doesn’t make much of a difference as he drags his foot through the snow and ice beneath him, tracing out a vague path for them to follow. His sense of direction had become invaluable over the years, meaning after the first time in the woods he’d never gotten lost since, so it’s not long until he’s back at the cars.

Moving closer he waves to let them know he’s not a walker, and even if they’d lost Andrea he didn’t trust some of the group not to have an itchy trigger finger since they were still learning. Rick looks fucking fuming when he winds the window down to glare at him, face pinched in a tight grimace and fire in his eyes. Tugging down the poncho so he can be heard best he could over the wind he explains what he’d found, pointing for them to follow him on the bike but to go slow and steady over the ice.

For what it’s worth Rick doesn’t yell at him right there, instead he simply gives a tight nod and starts the truck up, closing the window on Daryl and giving him a chance to get on the bike. Waving to the second car he signals for them to follow and climbs back on Merle’s bike, taking his time to ease it through the weather and up the bank until he came to the path and his makeshift trail. Despite wanting to get out of the wet and cold he’s not dumb enough to gun it, he’s seen what happens when a wheel spins out on ice and he knew it wasn’t pretty and they didn’t have time for that right now.

Besides, Rick was going to be pissed at him enough without needing another reason to call him an idiot.

He leads them to the building, an old barn, the kind you saw on cartoons and in kid’s book, a faded red with white trim and standing tall at the end of the pathway. Leaving the bike he heads to the doors, trying to meet Rick’s eyes despite the snow smeared windshield and nodding for them to prepare themselves. Yanking open the doors he falls back, crossbow at the ready in case anything came out of the building and sighing with relief when nothing happens.

The truck and car drive inside, weapons drawn out the windows and ready to fire or escape if they had to, prepared to fight for this shelter from the weather. When there’s no sound of gunfire and he hears the engines cut out Daryl gives a sigh of relief before wheeling in the bike, not willing to leave the thing outside to the mercy of the weather. It was stupid, but it was Merle’s and he knew how pissed his brother would be if it got fucked up because of some snow.

Leaving it pointing towards the door and ready to go if need be, he moves to drag the doors shut, glad to find the bolts and locks still in place and clicking them all shut, giving them that extra bit of protection for the night. He’s shivering but it’s with a grin on his face, knowing that maybe they’d be hungry for the night, but at least they would be better off than if they were out there.

He can hear the sounds of delight and relief from everyone else as they get settled, spreading out hay for makeshift beds and checking for any supplies or dangers in the dark corners. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s decent enough and shelter from the weather. Shaking his hair free of as much rain as possible he hunts for some dry clothes in his bag, right now his were sticking to him uncomfortably, soaked through and clinging in the most awkward of places. Heading behind the truck for a little privacy he calls for someone to clear a safe place for a fire, they should make the most of having four walls to hide it tonight and they all could use the extra heat, not just his soaked clothing.

It’s a relief to actually have the time to get changed completely, usually they had to make do with simply layering up and switching clothes when they could, but actually having a full change of dry clothes was a strange luxury. Slipping the sodden fabric from his body he uses the inside of the poncho to try and dry himself off as best he can and hates the feeling of trying to wriggle still damp skin into his dry jeans.

“Here.”

Flinching instinctively he spins on the spot to face whoever had come up behind him, immediately backing against the truck and wondering how much of his back they’d seen. He really wasn’t in the mood for questions tonight, or ever about the scars. Holding his dry shirt in front of himself he breathes a little easier to find Carol laughing at him, holding out a towel to him in a peace offering.

Nodding in thanks he takes it, still holding his shirt to cover as much of his chest as possible and using the towel to soak up the last of the rain. “You know I was a married woman, you haven’t got anything I haven’t seen before.” She teases, folding her arms across her chest whilst she watches him, still smiling and fully at ease, a complete contrast to how he was feeling right now.

Daryl knows he’s got plenty she hasn’t seen before and plenty more that he never wants to show anyone, whether they have or haven’t seen it before. Shrugging a little he continues drying himself as best he can, holding the towel between his teeth and he quickly pulls on the shirt, covering himself and feeling the tension in his shoulders ease a little.

“Damn, I was enjoying the view.” Carol teases, and though he knows she means nothing by it and she’s just trying to be a playful friend, it still makes him grab his jacket and cover as much of his body as he can. At least she was pretty tame with it all, he doesn’t think he could handle it if she got more lewd with her comments.

Tugging on some fingerless gloves they’d found he rolls his eyes at her, trying his best to learn how to react without snapping at people quite so much. “Stop it.” He warns, but there’s no malice in his voice and when Carol smiles back to him he figures he’s doing well enough.

“Aw I’m sorry baby, I didn’t know you were so shy.”

Her words make him freeze in place, feeling sick at the mere mention of the word and bristling immediately. He hates that name, he fucking hates being called that word and everything it makes him remember. Stale cigarette smoke and cheap perfume poisoning his bedroom. Swallowing back the panic he tries to keep himself calm, knowing she didn’t mean anything by it, she was just playing with him again. “D-don’t…don’t call me that.” He mutters, clenching his fingers in the damp towel for something to ground himself.

Carol doesn’t ask and he’s grateful for that, instead she cocks her head to the side and watches him. He knows they all know about his scars and they have ideas where they came from, and he figures that Carol has a few of her own she doesn’t like people questioning. So it’s a relief when she shrugs, not drawing attention to his discomfort and instead carrying on with the teasing as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “How about Pookie then?”

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, Daryl releases his grip on the towel to a more normal one, moving to rub the fabric back over his hair to get the last few drops of rain. “Fine, just…just not that other one.” He reinforces, focussing on getting himself dry and pleased he’d managed to stay calm about the whole thing.

Before he can relax completely fingers grab at the towel, batting away his hands with a sigh before tipping his head down, making it easier for Carol to begin rubbing at his hair for him. “Come here, you’re going to catch pneumonia if you don’t dry yourself properly.” She sighs, sounding like an exasperated mother and the fingers digging in to his scalp don’t hurt but it’s still extremely uncomfortable for him.

Daryl tries to remain calm, closing his eyes and attempting to reassure himself that she was only trying to help and she just didn’t know. It wasn’t her fault really, he supposes this is what friends do for each other, but he has to clench his hands into fists when she continues speaking, and all calm flies out of the window.

“You know Sophia was just the same, she’d go out in the rain when she was younger, splashing through puddles no matter how many times I told her not to and then low and behold the next day she’d be suffering from a head cold when she didn’t dry off properly.” Carol continues, unaware of his discomfort and waffling on as if there was nothing out of the ordinary for them both.

It’s too much, and all he can think of is her, the way she’d done everything for him, done everything to him and forced him to comply. Though he knows it’s not the same, it’s Carol not her, and she’s just drying his hair but it’s enough to make him feel small again, helpless and on edge and he just can’t deal with it again. Flashes of memories and touches ghost through him, of wanting it to stop and not being heard.

“I can do it myself!” He snaps, jerking out of her grip and yanking the towel away, throwing it at her feet and breathing heavily, ignoring the way she flinches at his raised voice, just as he did with the others. “I ain’t your damned kid and I don’t need your help woman!” Daryl is awake he’s breathing heavily, but he’s scared of what would happen if he stopped now, angry and on edge, needing her to back off and knowing violence and anger kept people at bay easier than asking. “Quit trying to mother me, I don’t need it and I don’t want it, I ain’t yours to look after. You need to keep your damned hands to yourself, all of you bitches do. Can fucking look after myself!”

He hates the way she looks when he storms off, ignoring the looks from the rest of the group when he stalks past and pretending not to hear the questions sent his way. Fuck them. Fuck them all. Climbing the ladder to the hay loft he’s glad to get out of their sight, to be as alone as possible and still spitting and cursing at what had happened.

How dare she do that to him? They all knew he didn’t like to be touched, why did she think she got that right? Treating him like he couldn’t do anything himself, comparing him to Sophia and calling him ba-

Slumping in the corner he stabs his knife into the floor, digging the blade in to give him something to focus on, gripping the handle hard enough to hurt his palm and relishing the ache. He can hear them all down there, Lori asking Carol if she was okay, Carl and Glenn questioning if he was all right and what had happened. As if they cared, they’d all take Carol’s side of the story and think him a shitbag for being mean when she was only trying to help. No one ever listened to him, no one ever believed him anyway so why bother wasting his breath?

His stomach aches and he knows it’s not hunger this time. Swallowing back the nausea he concentrates on the knife, digging out splinters of the wood and beginning to carve deep into the grain. It’s something easy to focus on, letting him ignore the feel of her fingers through the towel and how she’d insisted he couldn’t do it by himself. He could do it by himself, he could do everything by himself and he’d spent every day after she’d gone and died proving it.

Fuck her. Fuck her for still managing to make him feel like this when she was dead and gone. Drawing up his knees he curls in on himself, justifying the move since it was still cold in the barn and not because he just felt better like this. Chewing on his thumb he awaits the inevitable, the yelling that would happen, he’d probably be kicked out of the group for being mean to a lady and none of them would fucking understand that it was all her fault!

Stabbing the knife down again he hisses when the gloves give him less grip, letting his palm slip down enough that he catches himself on the blade, slicing through the wool and catching his skin. It’s not deep but it’s enough to bleed and make him swear at his own fucking stupidity and the voice in the back of his mind that tells him she was right; he really couldn’t look after himself.

Clenching his hand he ignores the blood as it drips to the hay, chewing on his thumb and trying to pretend he didn’t remember her drying him off after a bath and reminding him that he couldn’t do it himself. His stomach rolls again, making him heave a little and fight to keep down what little food he had left, not willing to make more of a scene than he already had. His thumb is trembling against his lip and he knows it’s not the cold that’s making him shake, but the memories of stale cigarette smoke and cheap perfume in his bed instead.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is another flashback to Daryl's past and has graphic descriptions of child abuse, it's not shown in a positive light at all but please do not read if you are uncomfortable.

_Pressing against the window his breath fogs up the glass, making him have to pause to wipe it away so he can see again. The weather is its usual Georgia heat, his skin is tacky with sweat and his shirt clings to his body uncomfortably. Right now he longs to be outside, scanning the woods for tracks and learning how to throw his knife like the guys in the movies. The woods were far more exciting than being inside, and right now he was bored out of his mind._

_Mom didn’t want him going out today, not without Merle with him, as if he couldn’t look after himself out there on his own. He hates that, he knew what animals to avoid and how to spot any illegal snares his father had put out, there was no way he wouldn’t be fine. But when he asked she got tears in her eyes, stroked her fingers through his hair and said she just wanted to keep her baby safe._

_When she got like that it was better not to push, not when dad was out drinking somewhere and Merle was out with his motorbike buddies. He’d begged to go with him, not wanting to be left here with her on his own, but Merle had sneered at him and smacked him upside the head for being too young. Driving off with a laugh and making him feel terrified about how the day would go._

_She’s in a good mood and sometimes that makes it all worse. Right now she won’t let him out of her sight, making him stay in the front room whilst she sings to herself in the attached kitchen. He likes her being happy, he really does because it doesn’t happen often and she looks so bright when she smiles for other reasons, but there’s just that worry gnawing at his gut the whole time. She’s happy because dad had won some money on a scratchcard, giving her kisses, filling the fridge with food and even getting mom a new dress that she was dancing about in right now._

_The fabric swirls about her legs when she spins, creating an actual meal for them to enjoy, pausing in her song to tell him about how good it’s going to be to sit as a family for a real dinner. He doesn’t think it’ll happen, he knows dad is out there spending the rest of his money on booze, Merle was out and never on time even though he swore he would be and the feeling in his stomach means he probably won’t want to eat. But she’s smiling and happy so he doesn’t tell her that._

_As soon as he shifts from the couch she’s watching him, looking as if he was going to suddenly run away or get lost in their own home. “Where are you going baby?” Her voice is high, panicked and he can see the way her fingers tremble around the knife in her hand. He hates that, he really does and when she lights a cigarette to calm her nerves he feels a little better._

_“To the bathroom mom.” He replies, stopping in his tracks, digging his nails into his palm and praying that she was at least going to allow him this one bit of freedom._

_She smiles, teeth stained with nicotine pressing against her lipstick covered lip with a little laugh. Coming over she strokes through his hair, curling it through her fingers before leaning over a little to meet his eyes, stroking a finger beneath his chin. “Good boy, we don’t want anymore accidents do we?”_

_Flushing deeply he turns to look at his feet, his toe poking out of the hole on the left one and distracting him from the shame that fills him. “No mom.” He whispers in reply, clenching his fists again as she blows smoke across his cheeks._

_“I know my poor baby can’t help it, you’re just such a deep sleeper.” She coos, pressing gentle kisses to his cheek and Daryl decides not to tell her he was just too scared of her noticing if he got up in the middle of the night to go. “Come right back when you’re done.”_

_The relief he feels at her not following him makes him sigh and take his time in the bathroom, washing his hands twice over and folding all the towels there just to give himself an excuse. She’d think he was trying to help so at least she wouldn’t be mad with him. Eventually there’s no more stalling, she’d just come to find him anyway, so he heads back to the couch._

_“Baby why don’t you come and help mommy for a while? I could use your help, I need someone with big strong arms to come and knead this dough for me.”_

_It’s pathetic how much that little comment makes his chest swell with pride, and of course he goes to help his mother, wanting to be a help for her and show how strong he was. Maybe she was finally noticing he was growing up? Maybe this was her way of thinking he could do things by himself?_

_She tugs him closer, stubbing out her cigarette and letting him stand beside her at the counter top, dusting his hands with flour like her own. “Such a helpful boy.” She coos, and for a moment he loves his mother, when she dabs at his nose with a flour-covered hand and makes him laugh before letting him do the same to her. They both giggle, with mom guiding him to plunge his hands into the dough, smiling when he makes a noise at the feeling of the sticky goo and teaching him how to knead it properly._

_He wants things to stay like this forever, like they’re a real family and she’s glad to have him as a son. Both of them are covered in flour, Daryl’s clothes are patted with white and mom’s new dress has a smattering over the front, she’s not even mad at the mess. The dough forms into something more workable, the flour letting him make it into a ball and before he knows it his mother is standing behind him, moving her hands over his and showing him how to work it to the right consistency. It’s actually kind of fun and when mom moves to wash her hands, leaving him to do it by himself that swell of pride blooms a bit brighter inside of him._

_Everything is perfect, just right and it’s like for once he can pretend that they have a normal family like the ones on the cereal box._

_When mom comes back behind him again he smiles, wanting to have more fun and show her what a good job he was doing. Then her hand slips down between his legs and he’s not having fun anymore. His hands freeze around the ball of dough, covered in flour and shaking when mom presses against his back, hooking her chin over his shoulder gently. “M-mom…please…”_

_This was wrong. He always knew it was wrong but this was even worse. This wasn’t meant to happen, they were in the kitchen not the bedroom. It was only supposed to happen in the bedroom before he went to sleep and could pretend it wasn’t real, when she would leave and he’d be alone and safe for a few hours. “Shh.” She whispers to him, and her hand is still there, cupping at him, stroking over him and making him shake. “It’s okay baby, mommy’s got you.”_

_No, he doesn’t want her to be mommy right now. Mommy was for the bedroom, she was meant to be mom right now and being nice and teaching him how to knead dough. He feels sick. Finger stroke over him, slipping beneath his waistband into his underwear and he fucking hates how his body reacts to it._

_“Let mommy take care of you, come on now you said you were going to help me baby.” He doesn’t want to, he wants to run into the woods and never look back. Instead he clamps his eyes shut, moving his trembling flour covered hands to the ball of dough and trying to focus on moving it. “There we go, see isn’t this nice?” She kisses his neck, her breath is gentle behind his ear and her hand runs over him in the most horrible of ways._

_“Y-yes mommy.” He whispers, shoulders hunched over, trying to curl away and hide from it all, hands unable to move anymore when she makes him moan. It’s horrible. It’s horrible and wrong and he hates that he can’t stop himself and that for some reason it’s good and he’s sick for liking it and being like this. But he can’t say that to her._

_His breath hitches in his chest, caught there when he tries to breathe properly. “You’re doing so well for mommy.” Her voice is too sweet, too soft and easy to listen to and it makes him bite down on a sob when she reaches out her free hand to move his own away from the dough. “Now wipe your hand on the towel and then I need you to be a really good boy for me.”_

_Of course he does what she says, even if he wants to leave the towel, snatch the knife and make her leave him alone. But that was sick, she was his mother, what kind of sick person wanted to hurt their mom? Trembling all over he does as he’s told and can’t hold back a sob from breaking free when she moves his hand for him._

_Every inch up beneath her new dress makes him feel worse and when she moans behind him, and grinds onto his fingers he chokes on his tears. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all and it was worse and it felt good for him and he fucking hated it so much. Mom is moaning, making him moan and buck forward and move his hand and it’s an awful feeling of bliss that washes over him in one big go._

_Leaning on the counter he can’t hold back the tears, sobbing loudly with a damp patch in his underwear and mom hushing him quietly. “Oh baby it’s okay, mommy isn’t mad at you for not making her happy.” He can’t protest when she turns him around, wiping his hands with the towel before pulling him in to her chest, wrapping her arms about him and rocking him gently. “Shh, don’t cry baby, mommy’s got you. You can try again later.”_

_He doesn’t want to try again later, he doesn’t want to ever try again ever. Daryl feels sick, each sob choking him until he can barely breathe. Mom coos to him, stroking through his hair and hushing him, holding him tightly. The sound of a motorbike pulling up makes all the fear and shame in the world rush through him and despite everything, despite how much he hates her in this moment, he clings to his mother for comfort when Merle steps through the door._

_“See Darylina this is why you can’t come with me, still nothing but a fucking baby.” His brother snarls, kicking off his boots and looking strong and fierce in leather. Mom strokes through his hair again, bending to tell him to go wash up a bit whilst she bakes the bread._

_He does as he’s told, feeling hollow and small, hiding in the bathroom and hearing the sounds of mom yelling at Merle for bullying him. Daryl doesn’t know how long he stays in there, sitting by the old tub on the floor trying to stop his tears and the shaking. It’s long enough for his father to get home and join in on the shouting, everything blurring together into noise and then Merle opens the bathroom door, sneering at him that the food’s done before stomping off._

_It’s probably one of the worst moments of his young life, sitting at that table, damp underwear and a stomach that really couldn’t deal with food. His father berates him for crying, Merle calls him a fucking pussy, mom tells them to both stop it and calls him baby again. Sinking lower in his seat he doesn’t even pick at the food on his plate, even if his father was telling him he was an ungrateful son of a bitch to ignore food his mother had worked hard to make for him. There’s no point, if he tries he’ll just throw up anyway, the mere thought of it makes him gag a little._

_When his dad offers him some bread he really does almost throw up._


	5. Chapter 5

The storm is still raging outside, rain striking the side of the barn loudly and making them all the more grateful for the shelter for the night. By the time Rick finally climbs the ladder to the hayloft to come reprimand him Daryl’s thumb is sore as hell from where he’s chewed it, ripping off the skin around his nail until it throbbed. He doesn’t care, the pain helps keep him grounded.

His palm has stopped bleeding but the damned cut is in such an awkward place that it stings to close his hand, the fabric of the glove scratching and catching on it annoyingly. When Rick comes to sit next to him, sliding down against the wall with barely a foot of space between them he ignores him, instead focussing on trying to tie the rag he always keeps on him around his hand. He doesn’t need to know what’s going to happen, it’s very clear that he’s going to be yelled at for his behaviour but just like when he was younger at home or at school, the waiting always made him feel worse.

In this moment he can tell that Rick is a father and probably a damned firm one at that. The other man doesn’t speak straight away, instead he keeps his gaze on Daryl, bugging the hell out of him when he refuses to meet his eyes. It’s grating and a power play that Daryl is used to, make the person in the wrong wait, feel even more on edge. It was a tactic Merle used to use on him, his father too and now he came to think of it, she did as well.

“What?” He finally snaps, still not looking to Rick but instead glaring at Rick’s knee, sick of waiting for the words of hate and just wanting it over and done with. Daryl still feels sick, his stomach aching every so often at his unease and though the night is dragging on he has no intention of sleeping, not when he knows what dreams it will bring.

Rick shrugs, calm as ever and when he speaks it’s in a way that makes Daryl squirm in discomfort, feeling guilty even if he was justified in his actions. “Just thought you might have something you wanted to say.”

He huffs, chewing on his thumb and spitting a nail across the floor. “If you want an apology you’re gonna be waiting a long time.” Daryl replies.

“I don’t want an apology, that’s something you need to do for Carol, I want an explanation. For your little trek into the storm and what happened with Carol.” He knows Rick is watching him, looking across and waiting patiently, willing to wait for him to explain himself and his actions. He hates that, it makes him want to give in.

Shrugging a little Daryl’s not quite sure how to explain himself without sounding completely pathetic. Rick was a decent man, he knew that, and though he was certain the other man wouldn’t mock him for his answer it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to judge him anyway. Sometimes it was worse when people were silent about it, giving pitiful stares and little sympathetic smiles his way, least when they were mocking he could punch them with good reason. “Just don’t like being touched.”

There’s a moment of quiet as Rick processes what he says, nodding along and fuck somehow it makes it worse that he doesn’t yell. “I know that, but that’s no reason for you to go off on your own like that or to snap at Carol.”

It’s plenty enough of a reason to do both of those things, Rick was just too fucking innocent to see it. Gritting his teeth a little at having to put more effort into this, Daryl grabs the knife again, jabbing it into the wood and feeling better at taking his frustration out on something. “Didn’t want to sleep in a car. Ain’t enough room in them for all of us and our stuff, knew I could find us someplace for the night.”

“Daryl look, I know you don’t like being touched and I’m sure you have your reasons.” If Rick thinks Daryl can’t feel him glance to look at his back, his scars, then the man is an idiot. “But you can’t go putting yourself in danger because something makes you feel uncomfortable. As much as you hate it, sometimes you have to struggle through what you hate no matter how hard it is.”

Daryl would laugh if he wasn’t so pissed off with this whole thing, instead he just snaps back, letting his frustration be known at this whole thing. “Don’t come preaching to me Grimes, not when I know how grateful you are you don’t have to share a car with your pregnant wife.” He’d seen the way they were around each other, it reminded him of when his dad had smacked her around a bit too much and then there were a few days of silence between them until he apologised and she forgave him. Stupid bitch.

Rick tenses but doesn’t deny it, instead he grits his teeth before giving a sigh, still avoiding a fight. “But I was willing to put aside my personal problems for the greater good. I didn’t go risking my life because maybe I’d like a bit more space. For crying out loud Daryl you know us. We trust you with our lives, I know you can’t help it but surely you could trust us too?”

And that’s the fucking problem with these people, it was all about them and the good of the group. Normally he’d understand and go with it, but sometimes screw the group, this was about him and no one else. Stabbing the knife in the floor a little harder he can’t look at Rick right now, not when this conversation was heading into territory he didn’t like. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” He growls, stabbing again and again to get some of this frustration out.

“If you’d have said something we could have fixed it.” Rick carries on, and he just doesn’t get it. He thinks this is a quirk, just a habit or something than can be fixed after so many years. “Switched places in the cars, let you sleep next to someone you felt comfortable with being close to.”

Daryl shrugs feeling stupidly guilty with his answer. “Ain’t no one I feel like that with.”

When Rick speaks again he can hear the hurt in his voice, as if he’s offended that Daryl doesn’t feel comfortable with them. As if he could control this damned thing that’s been controlling him for years. “Not even Carol?” Rick asks, clasping his hands together as if they’re in an interview room and he’s in complete control. “Despite your outburst earlier usually you get on all right with her.”

Daryl grunts in reply, not comfortable with where this conversation was going. Sure they’d gone through the first problem, but the second one was where things were going to get too much for him. “Said no one didn’t I?”

“That why you snapped at her?” Rick questions and fuck this really is like being in an interview room. The other man playing good cop and asking things as if he really cared instead of just wanting answers.

It’s hard to explain, and though he knows the reasons for it all it’s not something he’s going to fucking share with the world. If Rick wanted answers he could have the basics and make a guess at the rest; that was more than enough. “Told you I don’t like being touched, heck it ain’t hard to see and she went and fucking touched me anyway, didn’t even ask. I ain’t her kid, I ain’t her problem, she don’t need to do that.” He knows his anger is seeping into his voice and right now he doesn’t care, Rick’s asking far too much of him right now.

“She’s your friend though Daryl, she was only trying to help.” Fuck it’s like Rick is trying to teach him the shit kids learn at preschool and he wants to tear his hair out it’s so annoying. He ain’t that dumb.

“Don’t need her help, don’t need none of ya to help me, I can look after myself.” He growls through grit teeth, feeling his anger bubbling beneath the surface and if Rick would just hurry up and snap at him then he could snap back and this could be a fight which was easier to deal with.

“Yeah but you don’t have to now Daryl.” Of course despite Daryl’s anger Rick’s voice is calm and steady, ever the negotiator. “We’re a group, a team, and part of that is to help each other. I’m sure Carol didn’t mean to scare you-“

“I ain’t scared of nobody!” He cuts in and this time he does turn to look at Rick, glaring at him with fists clenched and ready for a fight despite his fingers digging into the cut and making it sting again.

Rick doesn’t even flinch, he just watches him with calm eyes and carries on with his voice still as level as before, no fear or intention for a fight. “I’m sure she didn’t mean to startle you then. And I know if you just told her what happened she’d apologise to you after you’d done so for her. After everything you did for Sophia and how hard you tried to help her through it all, I know Carol doesn’t want to lose your friendship. It means a lot to her and I’m sure it means a lot to you too.”

Making a noise of understanding he nods, it does mean a lot to him, they all do but there are some things that are so deeply ingrained that he can’t help the ways he reacts. “It weren’t her fault.” He admits, he could at least give her that much.

“No it weren’t, and it weren’t yours neither. I know you can’t help your reactions, and that’s fine, we all try to respect each other here Daryl, we all just sort of assumed you were okay with women.” Of course they all just assumed because they knew about his back and his scars and people always thought physical scars were the source of all his problems. No one ever cared to look beneath the surface and see the invisible ones that scarred his soul.

“Don’t like no one touching me.” He explains, slowly and as calmly as he can given the situation. If Rick needed it spelt out to him then so be it. “What part of no one don’t you get? No one includes Carol and your damned wife. Other night she nearly gave me a heart attack.” He adds, picking at the scratched up floor and yanking out splintered pieces of wood.

“She hit you?”

“No just wouldn’t stop mollycoddling me, fucking tucking me in like I was her kid, like I was her problem, like I couldn’t look after myself. Made me fucking sick, couldn’t sleep no more.” As if Lori would ever hit him, she was too nice to do such a thing, despite her sharp words he knew she was all talk.

“That why you were in the truck?” Rick asks and Daryl nods a little with his response.

“Needed some air. Told you, made me sick.” And that should be enough, it was more than enough really. Rick knew as much as he was willing to give and if the man wanted to know any more then tough shit because he wasn’t getting anything else.

“Well I’m sorry that happened.” Rick apologises and of course he’s fucking sorry. The man was always sorry about everything and always wanting to fix any problems he could as fast as he could. No one was allowed to be broken under Rick’s watch. “Lori is having a tough time with her hormones at the moment, it makes her feel more maternal and it’s not like Carl is letting her close right now so she takes it out on anyone she can. She didn’t know it would have that affect on you, heck I didn’t know it would either, we went on the assumption you just didn’t like violence not stuff like that.”

Daryl doesn’t care that Rick is giving him that look, the one he knows is meant to make him open up and spill his soul because Rick is the most trustworthy guy he knows. The other man knew how to play his cards and even if a small, tiny part of himself wants to share this burden he’s carried his whole life with the man and explain himself properly, the larger part knows this is a secret that can never be shared.

Instead he looks away, picking at his nails, the hole in his jeans and anywhere else to not have to pay attention to the way Rick is watching him. “We done?”

“You gonna stop running off on your own and apologise to Carol in the morning?” Of course he nods, right now he’s far too on edge to go and apologise, not when memories are fresh in his mind and making his stomach churn in upset. But in the morning he would tell her he was sorry and tell her not to startle him like that again. She’d smile, all shy and then bright and fuck if Carol didn’t look like she did after dad had apologised to her after a fight. He hated that part the most. Carol didn’t deserve to be anything like her at all.

“You gonna tell your wife to back the hell off?” Rick nods in answer and Daryl turns back to stabbing at the floor, uncaring of the worried look Rick is giving him. “Then leave me be, need to try and get some sleep and that ain’t gonna happen if you keep on yapping at me.” It’s not going to happen at all if he could help it but Rick didn’t need to know that part.

Rick moves to the ladder, ready to head back down to the group and explain that he was being a grumpy little shit unwilling to join them. Daryl glances up when he pauses, waiting for the inevitable. “Daryl, you know you can talk to me right?”

And that’s just the way Rick was, Mr problem solver through and through as if a heartfelt chat, some tears and a hug was going to solve this all for him. As if Daryl was going to just open up about everything he’d been through to him even though he’d just started to see the man as trustworthy. In the end he doesn’t answer, simply breaking eye contact to turn away, flopping to the hay beneath himself and picking at the floor as Rick heads back down the ladder.

Couldn’t talk to anyone about this secret.


	6. Chapter 6

_The police were really nice to him, as were the firefighters and the ambulance people. They wrapped him in a blanket even though he wasn’t cold and listened when he said he didn’t want a hug at all. There were a lot of questions he didn’t want to answer and the smell of the smoke made him gag a little but he didn’t cry. They let him sit in the firetruck and they showed him all the buttons and one of them even let him wear his hat. It was stupid and he felt a little silly for enjoying it, eleven year olds were too old to play make believe, but it was still pretty cool to get to be a firefighter for a while._

_Daryl didn’t know where his dad was, probably on a bender somewhere and Merle was in juvie, far away from all of this chaos and not here to tell him what he was supposed to do. He felt pretty lost but everyone was being so nice to him, letting him press various buttons and do what he wanted. They kept giving him weird smiles, kept calling him a brave young soul and nodding to him. He didn’t know why._

_None of this makes any sense to him but he knows he’s not acting like he should be. The cops keep giving him looks as if he’s going to break down any second and they keep frantically calling for child services to hurry up and get here. He doesn’t like the sound of that, Merle had always said he needed to keep his stupid mouth shut at school of they’d get caught by child services, split up and made to live in the city with some other dumb family. He didn’t want that, the city was dumb and full of people._

_The fire is out now, the remains of one side of their home nothing more than wet wood and charred ash, broken and lost to the world. He doesn’t particularly care, he’d never had anything important and Merle had made sure he knew that a home was just somewhere they slept at night, it weren’t nothing special._

_He knows she’s dead. It’s obvious and people keep reporting one female found dead inside. Daryl supposes that’s why they think he should be crying, they know he should be mourning his mother and sobbing for her to come back from the dead. He didn’t see why. When you were dead you were dead and no crying would ever bring you back. Besides, Merle always said it was dumb to cry, it never fixed anything and made you look stupid and he didn’t want to look stupid in front of the firemen._

_So he continues listening to the firemen tell him stories, and when the police come over and ask more questions he curls the blanket around himself tighter and chews on his thumb until they go away. It works and though he wonders when they’re going to start hitting him to find out what they want to know, the staying quiet seemed to work for now._

_Mom was dead. Why did they need to know more than that? She was dead and he felt weird about it. He wasn’t happy, of course not she was still his mom, but he wasn’t sad either. It felt like someone had taken a big sigh out of him that he hadn’t known he’d been holding onto and now he could breathe a bit easier. Everything felt like it was lighter all of a sudden and though he’d confused as to what the hell was going on, he doesn’t exactly mind it._

_The child services people turn up, it’s a lady in a suit with a bright smile and long hair, she leans down to talk to him and uses a voice that sounds too soft. “Hey there Daryl, my name’s Cindy. You and I are going to be hanging out together for a while, is that okay?” He shrugs but when she reaches out to take his hand he jerks back, shivering and pulling the blanket around himself a little tighter._

_They have to go to the police station for a few hours, it’s boring and full of grown up conversations he doesn’t want to be a part of and more of those weird looks. But he’s allowed to get a candy bar from the machine so it’s not too bad. He and Cindy sit in a room together with horrible plastic chairs and she keeps asking him things and sighing with a small smile when he shrugs in response. How was he supposed to know what had happened? Or where he father was? Or if he had any relatives they could call?_

_He had to give the fireman’s helmet back before they got in the police car, but one of the officers had given him his badge to let him be a cop for a while, so at least he had something to fidget with when Cindy kept asking things._

_“Daryl I know this is hard, but I need you to listen to me for just a moment.” Her voice is really soft, nice and calm and when he looks up to her and gives her some attention, she smiles for real this time. “Good job. Now I need to know that you understand what’s happened today and how that’s going to affect you now.”_

_Turning his attention back to the badge he sets it on the table, trying to get it to spin like a coin even though it’s an awkward shape. “Mom’s dead.” He answers, not sure why she needed him to explain if she knew already. “Was a fire. Gotta find dad or someone else for me to live with.”_

_Cindy looks upset and he wonders if he had done something wrong to make her mad. “That’s correct Daryl, but do you know what being dead means?”_

_“Means she ain’t alive no more.” He shrugs, not sure how this is so hard for her to get. Cindy looked smart and she was wearing a suit and had glasses, so she must be smart, not like him. “Like she’s sleeping and ain’t gonna wake up again.” Like all those animals they caught in traps, or the ones Merle taught him to shoot and skin, only mom weren’t going to be dinner or nothing. “I know what dead means.”_

_“You know it’s all right to be upset don’t you Daryl? No one is going to be mad at you for crying sweetheart.” He shivers when she calls him that, leaving the police badge on the table and curling his fingers into the orange blanket he still had. “It’s okay to be sad that your mommy is gone. I know she loved you very much and would be proud of how well you’re doing, but it’s okay to cry baby.”_

_Shaking his head he brings his feet up to his seat, curling around his legs when she uses that horrible word and calls her mommy. The sick feeling creeps into his stomach and when she reaches out to take his hand he screams. He screams so hard he think he might be sick but he doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want another mommy, he doesn’t want to be called baby and he doesn’t want Cindy giving him those soft and gentle eyes and being so nice to him. There’s panic around him for a while, someone tries to touch him and he lashes out, cursing and smacking, punching at anyone and everyone who comes near, not wanting any of this, not wanting any of them to touch him ever again._

_Eventually he’s left alone, curled in a corner of the room with his blanket and trembling but still not crying. The grown ups are using big long words he doesn’t know, calling him traumatised and shaking their heads in his direction. Daryl doesn’t care, he just wants to go home and pretend to be a fireman again, things were easier when he could just pretend._

_They find his dad and when he’s sober they let them both go to Uncle Jesse’s house to stay there until they can repair their house. He has to sleep on the couch for a few nights, he doesn’t go back to school and they let him keep the blanket. Uncle Jesse is nice, cooking him meals and telling him he needs to fatten up and his dad is quieter than usual, not even yelling at him for being a nuisance underfoot._

_The day of the funeral Merle is allowed to come home. His big brother shows up that morning, dropped off by a cop and warned not to do anything stupid before he’s picked up after the funeral. It ain’t gonna be much, they couldn’t afford it, but dad said mom was going to be cremated, Daryl didn’t understand why they needed to burn her again but kept that part to himself._

_His brother helps him get ready, tucking in the shirt of the rented suit and helping him fix the tie he couldn’t work out. Merle doesn’t look right, he’s all stiff and tense in the shoulders and quieter than usual, he hasn’t even called Daryl a pussy once. Biting his lip he watches as Merle does the tie for him, setting it into place on his chest before fixing the collar. “I ain’t cried Merle.” He tells him, hoping to make Merle smile, or at least give him something to be proud of._

_Merle just grunts in reply before moving to fix his own tie. They all look weird in these suits, they’re uncomfortable and far too clean, he feels like the tie is making it hard to breathe but he daren’t pull it loose. The funeral is full of people he doesn’t know, some look like mom and others just look like they’d shown up from the town to seem like decent people. There are whispers behind hands as they walk behind the coffin and Daryl is even more confused when Merle holds his hand._

_It’s weird and full of people looking at him. The bubble of relief turns to anxiety and he stands a little closer to Merle, knowing that everything was wrong when his brother places an arm around his shoulders. There’s singing and prayers, people he doesn’t know say things about his mom and he wants to shout and tell them all they were liars that knew nothing. Instead he chews on his thumb and holds onto Merle a bit tighter._

_The box with mom in goes behind a curtain to some music, something he knows she used to sing around the kitchen on the good days, things she would hum in his ear sometimes when she was mommy. Ignoring the stomach ache he scuffs his shoes against the tiled floor, hating how shiny and neat they were and how his mom would have said he looked adorable in them. She was dead and gone now and everyone was being really quiet about it and making it be a big deal._

_There’s food and drink afterwards and loads of people keep coming up to him and Merle and dad, some are quiet and crying, others keep trying to shake his hand or ruffle his hair. Some of the old ladies try to kiss his cheek but he shies away, hating all this contact and all these people calling him brave and sweet and just like her. When it gets too much he hides behind Merle, tugging up the back of his suit jacket and pressing himself against his brother’s back in the darkness. It really is a weird day because Merle just lets him and doesn’t yell._

_Pressed in the safety of the darkness he wonders what this means. Without mom there and Merle in juvie it meant it would just be him and dad at the house and he didn’t know how that should make him feel. He wasn’t looking forward to trying to avoid the beatings when he was the only target, but without her it meant no more mommy, no more being a baby and now he could show that he could do things for himself. It was awful that he was looking forward to that part of it all._

_Things might get better now, maybe Merle wouldn’t hate him so much when he showed he could do things for himself and maybe his dad would stop hitting him so much if he wasn’t such a pussy. Without her there he wouldn’t have to do things he didn’t want to, he could tuck himself in to bed and not have to worry about mommy helping him in the bath anymore. He would get to be a grown up now, he could show them how he could look after himself and that he wasn’t a baby anymore._

_When the queue of people have finished Merle fishes him out from behind him, but he doesn’t look pissed, he just looks sad and Daryl doesn’t know how to cheer him up. They head outside, walking along the grass fields behind the town hall and Merle still hasn’t let go of his hand this whole time. “Merle? You upset about going back to juvie tonight?”_

_Merle snorts out a laugh but it’s not one because it’s funny, his brother still looks sad when he watches him. “Yeah, yeah I’m upset about that.” It’s a lie, he can feel it is but Merle doesn’t like it when he points out he’s lying, so instead he pretends the lie is true._

_“How much longer ‘til you come home?” He asks, kicking at the ground and looking up to Merle when his brother pulls them to a stop, making him turn to face him and holding his shoulders._

_“Few more months.” Merle replies and there’s something in his eyes, something Daryl doesn’t like and doesn’t know how to deal with. Biting on his lower lip he fidgets when Merle tilts his chin to meet his eyes. “You gonna be all right without me or mom there to help you out? It’s just going to be you and dad now, and you know how he gets mad sometimes, ain’t gonna be no one there to protect you no more.”_

_That’s why Merle looked so sad, he didn’t think he could look after himself. Well he didn’t need her, he wasn’t her baby anymore and he didn’t need her or him or anyone else anymore. “Don’t need protecting Merle. I can do it myself, I ain’t a baby.”_

_Then Merle has that sad smile on his face, like the one the policemen and the firefighters and Cindy had before. “You’re always going to be my baby brother.”_

_Whatever had been empty inside of himself suddenly fills with anger and he’s so mad at Merle for not listening. His brother may not sound like he’s mocking him, but he hates that word, he hates being called it and he wasn’t going to have it any more. “No I ain’t Merle! I’m not a baby! I’m not!” He screams, hitting at his brother, catching Merle off guard and actually managing to land a hit for once. Of course Merle retaliates and before long they’re wrestling on the grass, dirtying up their nice clean suits with mud and grass stains, tearing at the neat little buttons and cursing each other._

_“I ain’t! I ain’t a baby Merle! Can’t be a baby no more cause she ain’t here! She’s dead and now I ain’t her baby no more!” He screeches, yanking at Merle’s hair, wincing as he’s hit back and biting where he can. “I’m not a baby! I’m not!” He howls and he doesn’t know why but something inside of him bursts and he’s sobbing, crying great heaving breaths laced with tears until they’re not fighting but just heaped on each other._

_Merle’s holding him tightly as he yells, still telling the world, telling his brother, telling her that he’s not her baby anymore now that she was gone. His brother is stroking his hair, wrapping his big arms around him and holding onto him tightly as if he’s afraid he’s going to let go. Howling at the sky Daryl continues crying, everything coming out in one moment of pain and relief, all the desperation over the years flowing into this one outburst he’d never truly allowed himself to have._

_It’s not until his brother buries his face in his neck that Daryl realises Merle is crying too._


	7. Chapter 7

He feels sick.

It’s all his fault, he’s fucked up now and there’s no going back. They were going to kill him. No, worse, they were going to kick him out of the prison and make him go and live out in the woods on his own again like before and he’d never seen any of them again. He’d tried so hard to get where he was! It had taken so long for him to feel comfortable with the group and now they were a family and he didn’t want to lose the only family he had left now Merle was gone. He couldn’t deal with being on his own again, not now, not after everything and not because of this stupid secret of his.

Daryl is frantic as he moves about the guard tower, the keys shaking in his grip as he locks the door, sealing himself inside safely. It doesn’t feel like enough so he drags the desk over to shove it in front of the door, then he adds the filing cabinet to the barricade and slumps to the floor beside it. Breathing heavily he pushes back on it, putting his weight on it all and not caring that he’s acting like a pathetic child blocking out the big bad world. Right now he feels just like that and God if there was a place he could curl up and hide beneath he would. And he doesn’t know if he’d ever come out again.

There was no way they were going to let him stay here now and it was all her fault! She had fucked him up way beyond reason when he was a kid and now everyone else was having to pay for it because he was so stupid and couldn’t fix himself.

“Daryl?”

Cringing in on himself more he feels his stomach churn inside of him, full of nerves and fear, or self loathing and hatred of memories that wouldn’t leave him alone. Rick knocks on the door, panting, out of breath from running up the stairs to get to him and probably restrain him like the good cop would. He’d put him in a headlock and yell at him, scream at him for being such a dick and make it clear he didn’t want someone like Daryl around his children. The family he’d worked so hard to become a part of was going to abandon him, just like everyone else did, and he’d be on his own again.

“Daryl? Daryl what the hell happened? Let me in Daryl.” Rick pounds on the door again, pleading with him, sounding so concerned it makes him almost want to give in to it all. But whatever self preservation he’s got left in this world makes him shake his head, even if Rick can’t see, and press a little harder against his self made barrier. “Daryl please, you need to talk to me, I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.” He manages, words stumbling on his lips and barely loud enough to be heard through the door. But he can hear Rick sigh and he can imagine exactly how he looks, probably running his fingers through his hair and glaring at the floor as he waits for more. “Is…is she okay?” Because he hadn’t meant to, not at all, it had just happened.

“Susan is fine. She’s a little shaken up, she’s got a split lip and there’ll be a bruise for a while, but there’s no real damage. She is upset though.” And Rick pauses for a second, as if he can’t believe what he’s about to say and Daryl can hear the small chuckle in his throat, as if this is all a big joke and Rick knows it can’t possibly be true. “Says you hit her.”

He stays pressed in on himself and the barricade against the door. His crossbow is clutched in his grip and he feels the need to hang onto it a little tighter, as if he needed a weapon right now. “I didn’t mean to.” But he had and now he feels awful and like a piece of shit for hitting someone, for hitting a woman in the face and causing her to bleed. And it was all because of this stupid fucking secret breaking him on the inside. “It was an accident Rick.”

Rick doesn’t yell, or call him an asshole for admitting it, but Daryl can practically hear when the other man deflates on the other side of the door. What kind of leader could trust a man that would just lash out for seemingly no reason and hurt a member of their group? He was a liability and he knew Rick didn’t like having loose cannons around, look what had happened when Shane had become too unpredictable. They sit for a while in silence with the barrier between them seeming to grow larger and more impenetrable and if Daryl couldn’t hear Rick breathing on the other side of the door he’d be worried the other man had abandoned him already.

What kind of awful person hit someone like that? There had been any warning, he’d just lashed out at her and hurt her, and she’d looked so frightened of him, turning on her heel and fleeing with her hand to her mouth and tears in her eyes. A part of him wonders how his father could have done this daily when it felt so awful, but he pushes that thought down and away as hard as he can. He’s a failure and there’s no way that he would be allowed to stay in the prison, not when they’d spent so long making it safe and now he was the danger.

When Rick finally speaks his voice is calm, a negotiator’s tone, as if Daryl had any other hostage than himself and was making stupid demands. All he wanted was to be forgiven, but that was something he’d never get after this. “I believe you Daryl.” Rick replies, and though he’s the most honest man Daryl had ever met, he’s not sure if he believes him. “I know you would never ever hurt someone unless you had a reason, so how about you let me in and we talk about this?”

Let him in to restrain him. Probably had some handcuffs from the offices here, maybe that was going to be his punishment, Rick would chain him up like Merle and give him a saw and no other choice. Swallowing back the pang of grief he glances to the door, holding the crossbow tighter and wondering why he still trusted Rick not to hurt him. “Just you?” Because if he could let anyone in it would be Rick. He’d seen the other man at his worst after Lori had died and Rick had been there before in the barn and after that night on the road and he’d never ever tried to hurt him before. If there was anyone he could maybe let in it was Rick and besides, if there was going to be punishment then he’d want Rick to give it.

“Just me.” Rick reassures and he can hear when the other man gets to his feet, not pushing but just waiting. There’s a few more moments of hesitation on his end of it all and he manages to shove aside the filing cabinet and desk to get to the door but he can’t quite get the key in the lock yet. Thing is he knew Rick had another set of keys, of he really wanted to get in then he could have gotten through this barrier himself without asking; maybe he should see that as a sign of trust or something? Taking a breath he feels the guilt swell inside of him and he remembers the choked sob Susan had made as she’d run out of here, leaving him alone and fearful for his future. “Daryl please.”

Rick’s voice brings him back to the here and now and he gets the key in the lock, hearing the shift and click as he opens the door and opens it a few inches, stepping back and unable to look as Rick comes on through and he’s grateful when he hears the door lock behind him. At least they would have some privacy for whatever was going to happen. Daryl can’t look at Rick, not when he knows there’s going to be questions and sympathy in his eyes and he can’t deal with that right now.

Instead he slumps back to the floor, fingers clenched around his bow and back to the wall so he was ready to defend himself if need be. He feels uncomfortable and on edge, unsure what exactly was going to happen and wishing his stomach would just settle for a moment and stop making him feel so sick. Rick doesn’t try to get close, he sits on the floor opposite even though there were a couple of chairs available and waits with him for a while.

“Daryl, I need to know what happened up here with Susan. It must have been something for you to hit her.” Rick doesn’t sound accusing, he just sounds as calm and understanding as ever. Daryl wonders if it would be easier if he were yelling instead. There’s no movement for Rick to get any of his weapons even if Daryl had his bow and could be a threat, it’s a sign of trust and it helps him breathe a little easier as he tries to figure how to explain it all. “Why don’t you start from the beginning? You were up here on watch?”

“Yeah.” He nods, picking at the string of his bow, the tightness of it making a soft ping noise as he flicks at it. It’s a nice little thing to distract himself from the rolling in his stomach and the terror of being punished. “I was on watch like usual and…” Taking a breath he finds his thumb coming up to his mouth, his nail slipping between his teeth and he pauses for a moment before continuing. “Susan came up here. She brought me some food from lunch.” He trails off for a moment, gathering himself and trying not to panic again.

Rick doesn’t push and he’s so thankful for that, instead his friend just coaxes him gently, no pressure, as if this were just a regular conversation they were having between them. “That was nice of her.”

He nods, supposing it was nice in a way, or at least he’d thought it was until she’d made her real reason for being here obvious. Besides he really wasn’t hungry now, not after having thrown up afterwards, the puddle of vomit and bile congealing disgustingly in the corner of the tower. He knows Rick has seen it and when he glances up he can see the worry on Rick’s face as they talk. “Susan is nice. She’s been nice this whole time and she’s always polite and stuff.” Which is why he doesn’t understand how it all got so fucked up so easily.

“I’ve seen you two talking before, you seemed to be getting along just fine by the looks of things.” Rick shrugs.

“We were. Everything was fine and then she…” His stomach tightens and he hunches over himself again, glaring at the floor between his feet, angry at everything for a second. He wants to explain but it’s hard, it’s so difficult and though he knows if anyone would understand it would be Rick, it’s still horrible to have to repeat it in words. “She said, ‘I know you want this’ and pushed me against the wall, then she…she kissed me Rick.” His voice stutters to a stop, nothing more than a hushed whisper on the last word and he hangs his head in shame, letting his bow sit on his lap as he weaves his fingers through his hair.

Again there’s more silence between them, expanding and making the gap of the tower floor between them seem vast and harder to cross. “So you hit her?” And Rick sounds so confused, as if it all made no sense and he’s snapping, whatever trust they had being pushed to the limits and he yanks at his hair harder when Rick just doesn’t get it even though he’s explained before.

“I told you. I told you before I don’t like to be touched by nobody.” He spits, glaring at the floor, hating how his fingers shake as they clench and yank at his hair, hurting his scalp but giving him some pain to focus on for a moment as Rick acts so stupid. They’d already had this talk, in the barn on the road and he’d thought Rick had understood it all back then, now here they were talking about it again and he hates it so much. “She fucking touched me Rick.”

“I know. I get that.” And Rick is being soothing again, holding out a hand like Daryl’s a spooked horse that Rick’s trying to tame. It makes him want to lash out and tell him to back the hell off, but they’re never going to get anywhere if he doesn’t explain. “But Daryl it was just a kiss.”

“That’s how it starts!” He snarls and everything is burning inside of him, bursting to get out and claw its way to the surface, years and years of built up anger and upset churning into one huge mass that he can feel ripping against his ribs and clawing to get out. “I know what that means, she tells me she knows I want it and then it starts with a kiss and her hands on my hips and then it gets worse and it makes me sick and I don’t want it but I can’t stop it. Then there’s touching and it’s so fucking wrong and she never listens when I say no and I don’t want it! I never want it! I never wanted it but she makes me do it and I hate it and I’m not her baby! I haven’t been her baby for years and I ain’t gonna be it again now!”

“Daryl!”

He can’t breathe. His chest feels tight, his stomach is clenching over and over and he’s panting for air and there’s a red tinge to everything around the edges. Block spots dance across his vision and for a moment he thinks he’s dying, he’s genuinely dying. Everything is all too much right now and he needs to get out of here but if he leaves then there’s no coming back and he’ll be alone again and it was better to be punished than alone. Gasping for air his fingers feel numb and the bow clatters to the floor as he tries and fails to get to his feet, leaving him on all fours and gagging on the taste of bile and memories, smoke and cheap perfume surrounding his nose and making him heave.

“Daryl it’s okay, just breathe okay it’s just me here. It’s just Rick there’s no one else. She’s not here okay? It’s just you and me, alright?” Rick is babbling beside him, but even though he figures this must be a scary thing to see, he’s not touching, he’s just there, beside him but giving him space. It’s a huge thing for someone to leave him be, to not touch him and to actually respect his choices and he takes a shuddering breath, trying to get himself more stable.

The words had fallen free from his mouth without his permission, tumbling loose and letting it all out in one huge burst of secrets come to light. It feels unreal and it feels even more strange that Rick was still here beside him and not kicking him in the ribs for being such a piece of shit. Spitting to the side he can feel himself breathing at a more regular pace, his chest heaving in great gulps of air and before long he’s able to get to his knees, kneeling back and counting his breaths as well as he can.

Rick looks scared for him, and his hand is still reaching out for him but not touching. “Daryl just breathe alright? Ain’t no one else but you and me here okay?”

He nods and he can see it’s just the two of them, no women here at all, no her, she’s dead and burned and there’s no way she could ever get to him again. It makes his chest feel a bit looser and he just breathes for a moment as Rick watches him. The shame is beginning to swallow him up, spreading over his face until he’s staring at the floor and a blush is covering his cheeks and the back of his neck. Now Rick knew properly and there was no going back.

“I just wanted her to stop.” He mumbles, and for a moment he’s not sure exactly if he’s talking about what happened half an hour ago or half a lifetime ago.

“Daryl she didn’t know. Susan didn’t know, neither did I.” Rick speaks so nicely to him and Daryl wonders if he should apologise for shouting and acting like a brat. Instead he shakes his head, closing his eyes and pressing his palms to his head, just curling in on himself.

“I told you.” He had, as best as he could at the time. “I told you before.” When Lori had made him sick and then Carol had made him yell and snap, hating her and scared of her and all of them in case they found out. Now here he was doing the same thing and so fucking terrified because now Rick really did know and who would want someone like him around their children.

Rick moves a little closer but it’s not intruding on his space, it’s more of a distance of comfort and Daryl appreciates that Rick doesn’t push too far. “And I didn’t understand then. Now I do.” His friend explains and when he glances up Daryl can see the sorrow in his eyes and the regret and anger there.

He knew this was coming. Rick wanted to hurt him, to yell at him for keeping this secret from him and not letting him know sooner. They would have gotten rid of him way before now if they’d had their way. “Want me to leave?”

“No, no Daryl I don’t want you to leave.” Rick’s always been a touchy feely kind of guy, Daryl can see it in the way he is with Carl, how he was with Shane and how he wants to be with him but is respectful of his problems. Right now he knows Rick wants to lay a hand on his shoulder and offer comfort. “I want you to know that I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Watching the other man Daryl doesn’t understand him at all, how this cop, someone who was meant to defend the innocent could possibly want to remain so close to someone like him. He’s broken in so many ways and Rick doesn’t seem to care at all, even if he was in the same place as his children. He doesn’t understand any of this shit and right now he is just so tired of it all and having to deal with it alone, maybe it wasn’t so bad if Rick knew about it properly. “No one else knows.” He mumbles and Rick nods in reply. “Was our secret.”

“Is that what she told you?” Rick asks and he nods, unable to meet his eyes and feeling the childish fear of sharing a secret bloom inside of him. He hates it and swallows it back, she was dead and not coming back, there was nothing she could do now and the with the world the way it was, nothing could change. Looking up to Rick he can see the way he’s filing all this information away into the folder in his mind labelled with his name. Probably taking questions and answering them, adding snippets from every child abuse case he’d ever worked and seeing the similarities in his behaviours. Rick already knew about the physical scars now he knew about the other ones too.

It shouldn’t feel as good as it did to share such a long kept secret.

“Couldn’t tell anyone else.” He shrugs, as if it was nothing when it had been burning at his insides since he was nothing more than a child. “I hated it. I never ever wanted it but she just… I couldn’t stop her.”

“There was no way you could have stopped it Daryl. This isn’t your fault you hear me?” And Rick is there, kneeling before him, still a decent distance away so not to scare him but strong and not accusing, just there and reliable as ever. “None of this is your fault. There was nothing you could have done, you were a kid right?” He nods, hanging his head in shame and hateful yet pleased that someone else knew. “It wasn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.”

“I hit Susan.” And Rick gives a small chuckle, enough to make his shoulders relax a little as he picks at the threads on his jeans.

“Alright that part is your fault.” Rick admits, sitting back with a sigh and a small smile, one that spoke of pain but no hatred. “But I know you didn’t mean it. She scared you Daryl and that’s okay to admit, it’s understandable that you lashed out at her. I’m sure if you apologise and explain that you don’t like to be touched then everything will be fine.”

He hopes so, he really hadn’t meant to hurt anyone and Susan had been okay until today and what she’d done. Really he knew he’d apologise as well as he could but he also knew he wasn’t going to be able to go near her again. Not after everything she’d made him feel. “Why does no one ever ask me first?”

“Sometimes people think it’s more romantic to act on the spur of the moment and just go for it. Susan probably thought you were just shy or playing hard to get.”

“Weren’t playing.” He huffs, picking at his nails with a shrug. It’s just something he’s never going to be comfortable with and he doesn’t think that’s ever going to change, no matter how much he tries. “Just don’t want to get got.”

Rick nods and doesn’t point out how fucking weird it is for a grown man to not want to get his end away with as many women as possible. Merle had never understood it, but he’s grateful that Rick doesn’t laugh. “I know and if you tell her you’re just not looking for anything I’m sure Susan will back off and probably apologise for being so forward. She really didn’t mean to hurt you Daryl, or to scare you, and no one here would ever make you do anything you didn’t want to, understand?”

“I know that, I do it’s just…I ain’t never had nobody who cared before.” He sighs, running fingers back through his hair and feeling his stomach start to settle a little. The tower is safe and away from everyone else, he doesn’t intend to move unless he has to and it seems Rick is willing to stay with him for as long as he needs. This is all so new to him and he’s glad that Rick isn’t pushing for more or trying to make it all better with ‘talking it through’ and ‘getting it out’ like some people would. Instead Rick had just taken what he was willing to give and left it at that.

“Well you’ve got plenty now, better get used to it.” Rick smiles gently, not moving from where he sits opposite him but just stating the facts. Not once had Rick ever pushed him for anything, not since he’d explained his dislike of touch and he’d never treated him any different either. Daryl knew this shared information wouldn’t get any new reaction from Rick either, he wouldn’t be treated any differently from normal even if Rick knew all about his disgusting little secret.

It’s not much, but after hours of the two of them sitting in the tower and talking about nothing in particular, they walk back to the main cell block together when it’s time to change who’s on watch. He feels better, he feels safer and though he’s not looking forward to facing Susan, he knows he can do it. No one here was going to hurt him or make him do anything he didn’t want to. Rick had said so, Rick had promised and it’s enough for him, he knew he could trust Rick with his life and everything else he had left. So it may not be much to anyone else in the world, but as he heads off to Merle’s bike to get some time to himself, he lets a hand fall to Rick’s shoulder for just a second and he swears he can see a smile on Rick’s face a she walks away.

It’s not much to anyone else in the world, but to him it was everything he was willing to give right now and he’s glad that Rick understood that.


End file.
